To Susan Sontag, with Love by Taban Lo Liyong

in mans greatest intellectual age sometimes called
mythopoeic he gave rivers tongues trees ears sky eyes mother earth oozed with
life words were very gods why but to make witnesses all witnesses police judges
erinyes

we remained human while that age lasted and its shadow
covered us

but enlightenment encroached this sensitive terrain drove
imagination behind saying we rational creatures be and down with superstition
man shall live by reason alone

as if this was first time human intellect had beheld these
views

enlightenment prophesied god dead

snuffing out divine in us

sacredness was dead for good

we caught unsuperstition like flu

mans feedback is fear

and superstition his homeostasis

and religion his lifebelt

at end of his tether man lives by myths and dies by daring
ignorance

ancient greeks in modesty moulded earth and gave objects so
made supernames correlatives of force and power in man

heartsearchingly
deeming it better man surrendered potency to objects

and nouns abstract

making himself harmlesser towards strangers and neighbours

and a serf to his own metacreatures

whose feats feast games

he observed with awe from distance

dared not imitate challenge

scapegods man made and placed on olympuses

had megahuman exploits men enjoyed in telling only

and bore blames for his immodesty

and glowed with pride in his success

always picking tabs and paying insurance

to experience lodged in subconscious

for acts omitted or committed

with lights we came on scene in time machines and thought
first generator toy and dismantled wheel rod indicators shaking cosmology out
of balance

human injunctions divined and austere had gone forth to
fear gods and not prod them and respects to locks of nestors

and noncontradiction of continuity with observation of line
in middle mans mind cant carry much nor follow road straight but if remains on
earth will stay safe intuition is not practical greeks flew by proxy divines
kept dark ages bright inquisition lost last battle against madness without fear
without superstition nails are painted red and fermi munches japanese a villain
after galileo at least newton repented

race of supermen has come but where superhumanistswith
guilt gonewas auschwitz far sacredness is dead and hiroshima invented without
superstition denigrated godtheidea to confront mantheideamaker more nearly

our death machines be twostage rocket launched on humanists
laps by scientists

they killed witches and
sought for stonekeeping idea alive

we are enlightened now and burnt by fire overexposure

the wring hands

chorus bastard humanists

rebels against ignorance set
acknowledging us

drilling efficiency in thick
skulls and making us robots

god knows what else our fates

from
abundant imagination lodged in impractical timid humanists

scientists put to work magic

poets planned and blueprinted
in classrooms

lurid attics and pulpits

and politicians would outdo alexanderandcaesar as taught in
school

everybodys tomb a pyramid and shrine we teach iliad for war
right and wrong troy is ours

capacity for variety sensations is dostoyevskys work on
paper pavlovs moved from dogs to flesh and mind overacute consciousness is
disease with own fundamental laws common to intellects elect screws them tight

psychedelics may be harmful your health but surrealism
destroys than pills adverse effects literary materials on human bodyandmind be
investigated by houseunamericanactivities sick in utopias criminal should be
criminal in ours to be bright

and all intellectuals be rounded up on ground intoxication
with ideas

and disturbance of natural mediocrity of man

we shall revive

the grand ancient society

for preservation of Ignorance

man

thoroughly dull creature since civilizations came and went
centuries piled top centuries to make man less ignorant after that

she has to spend most her life and energy being reminded of
bits of what should know to make death kit

AND WE HAVE LIFTOFF!

The Fall of the House of Usher (1928) Colin Z. Robertson's Soundtrack

Here at least We shall be free

Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least We shall be free; the Almighty hath not built Here for his envy, will not drive us hence: Here we may reign secure; and, in my choice, To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell: Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.

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Quisquis ovem simulat, hunc lupus ore vorat

Don't be trapped by old concepts, Matthew, you're evolving into a new lifeform.

"I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds."

Lupus in fabula

Kitler

Heil, Kitty!

Elefant Island

My name is Frankie Wild-o. Me hut's on Elephant Isle. The wall's without a single brick And the roof's without a tile. Nevertheless I must confess, By many and many a mile, It's the most palatial dwelling place You'll find on Elephant Isle.

William Irwin Thompson's At the Edge of History

Pink Floyd - Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun

Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun
Little by little the night turns around
Counting the leaves which tremble at dawn
Lotuses lean on each other in yearning
Under the eaves the swallow is resting
Set the controls for the heart of the sun
Over the mountain watching the watcher
Breaking the darkness
Waking the grapevine
Knowledge of love is knowledge of shadow
Love is the shadow that ripens the wine
Set the controls for the heart of the sun
Witness the man who raves at the wall
Making the shape of his questions to Heaven
Whether the sun will fall in the evening
Will he remember the lesson of giving
Set the controls for the heart of the sun

The Golden Apples of The Sun

Wandering Angus (Golden Apples of the Sun) Wm. Butler Yeats I went out to the hazelwood Because a fire was in my head Cut and peeled a hazel wand And hooked a berry to a thread And when white moths were on the wing And moth-like stars were flickering out I dropped the berry in a stream And caught a little silver trout. When I had laid it on the floor And gone to blow the fire aflame Something rustled on the floor And someone called me by my name. It had become a glimmering girl With apple blossoms in her hair Who called me by my name and ran And vanished in the brightening air. Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands I will find out where she has gone And kiss her lips and take her hand And walk through long green dappled grass And pluck till time and times are done The silver apples of the moon The golden apples of the sun.